


What Once Was Mine

by burntotears, Cheylock



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Tangled Fusion, Angst, Cancer, Canon Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Fluff, M/M, Parkinson's, Theft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntotears/pseuds/burntotears, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheylock/pseuds/Cheylock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski is a teen delinquent who started stealing and conning his way to money a couple of years ago when his mother fell ill from cancer.  They said she didn't have a long time to go and Stiles just couldn't lose his mother, the one person who had always been there for him, so he turned to a life of crime.  He's finally able to make the biggest score on record, but he doesn't quite make it out clean.  When looking for a place to hide, he stumbles on an unsuspecting house that looks perfect - except for the teen who is locked inside.  </p><p>Isaac has never left his house for as long as he can remember.  His father is abusive, and he'll never let Isaac leave because he needs him to stay strong and healthy.  Mr. Lahey was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease a while back and with Isaac's rare healing ability, he's able to live his life like he was never sick at all.  Isaac has no idea that he's a werewolf, he has no idea that he didn't always live with Mr. Lahey and he has no idea what is waiting for him outside the four walls of his house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. he's got a dream

Stiles’ breath came out in heavy gusts as he ran down another alleyway. He could hear sirens blaring behind him, hear a cop yelling at him through a megaphone to stop running and things would be easier for him in the end. 

No. They’d never be easy again, not if he lost one of the most important people in his life.

He’d ditched his bike a few blocks back because it made him easier to follow and he was smart enough not to drive his Jeep - he’d already done that once and learned his lesson when it was impounded and his parents had caught wind what he’d done. Needless to say, his mom thought he’d turned into some kind of delinquent. 

Okay, maybe he had, but at least she didn’t know why. It was hard to have her look at him with such sad eyes, wondering where things went wrong, but it was harder to have her know the truth and have her tell him to stop while she withered away and he did nothing about it.

Fuck that. Stiles cursed under his breath and made his way into a normal enough looking neighborhood, finally looking for a place to hideand wait out the cops. The weight of the precious metal and stones in his pocket was enough incentive to keep moving, even though his sides were aching and his thighs were burning from the exertion. Sure, he was in good enough shape, considering all the running he ended up doing as of late, but it was going to be worth it. He was _so_ close to having enough money to send his mom to the over-priced cancer treatment center that would end up saving her life. He just knew that if they had the money, everything would work out.

Stiles began to slow down in the yard of a house that looked empty; he spotted an open window near the ground that must lead to a basement - perfect hiding spot until the cops quit searching this area and moved on, thinking he was still on the run. He darted forward and slid feet-first through the window, hitting the floor with a loud thump and doubling over immediately to catch his breath.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed wheezily, feeling the burn in his joints even more now that he was stationary. After a couple of minutes he finally looked up to take in his surroundings… and immediately dropped to the ground, the whole world going black around him.

 

When Stiles came to, the first thing that he realized was that he couldn’t move his arms and legs. He started to panic; all of his worst fears were materializing before him - he’d been caught, he’d go to jail, they’d search his things and they’d eventually find his money and he’d never get his mom where she needed to go…

As his vision started to clear, however, Stiles found himself tied to an unsteady chair, still in the basement he had dropped into earlier - or at least what he _assumed_ was the basement, considering he had only seen it for all of two seconds. Stiles looked around, but he didn’t see whoever had brained him. “Hello?” he called, thinking belatedly that it hadn’t been the best idea. He should have pretended to still be out so when the person came back he could assess the situation and get the fuck out of there. Sadly his usual forethought was clouded by a throbbing lump on his head. “Hello? Anybody there? Wanna explain why I’m tied up?”

Stiles groaned when he received no response. Had he been tied up and left alone in some crazy fucker’s basement? Man did he know how to pick ‘em. By the time he finally saw movement in the corner of the room, he'd almost passed out again. Something rustled in the far corner of the room and he saw a flash of a hand from behind what looked to be a small blanket and pillow fort. How had he not noticed that right away?

“Hey! Hey, what the fuck? Why am I tied up and why the fuck did you knock me out?” Stiles asked incredulously and saw more movement, but other than that, the person didn’t vacate the hiding spot. “Look,” Stiles said a bit less hostily, “I know I broke into your house or whatever, but I was just looking for a place to hide for a little bit. I just-” It was like a ton of bricks had fallen on his head all at once; Stiles felt the lack of weight in his pocket and realized this person had taken the necklace from him. _Fuck_. “What do you want?”

In what felt like ages, but had probably only been about five minutes of following silence, a figure began to slowly, cautiously slink out from behind the makeshift battlements. It was a guy with curly dark blond hair, who looked to be around the same age as Stiles, but with the temperament of someone who didn’t do well with strangers - and probably a lot of other things too. He was clutching a stuffed wolf and what looked like a wooden beam of some kind, and he stared at Stiles with wide and frightened blue eyes, crouching on the ground across the room like he was scared Stiles would attack him.

Why the fuck was _he_ scared? He wasn’t tied to a damn chair! 

“What is this?” the blond asked, holding up the necklace by its chain and looking at Stiles. He sounded slightly more confident than he looked - Stiles could see his hand shaking as he held up Stiles’ latest score. It was a necklace made entirely of platinum. The amulet itself was in the shape of a triskelion, encrusted with yellow diamonds and sapphires swirling inward until they intermingled into emeralds at the center. It hung from a rather simple looking chain compared to the pendant.

“Looks like a necklace,” Stiles replied snottily, wondering if the guy was going to kill him for the money he could fence off that thing or turn him into the Hales. But when the blond looked at the pendent, Stiles didn’t see recognition in his eyes. Did he really not know who the Hales were?

“Is it yours?”

“Does it look like it’s mine?” Stiles huffed back defensively. 

“No,” the other teen replied awkwardly and silence fell over the room. Stiles waited for his captor to say something else to him, but he received nothing. The blond accessed him for a few more moments, then turned his back to Stiles and started whispering. 

Stiles raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Um… are you talking to me?” No answer. “Dude?” More whispering, but still nothing directed at him. Was this guy talking to _himself?_ Stiles watched his back for the five minutes or so that he kept himself turned away, wondering if he’d chosen the house of a lunatic to hide away in. Oh god, was he going to make Stiles rub lotion into his skin?

The other teen turned and faced him again, eyes a bit less scared and more curious now. “You know how to protect yourself?” he asked Stiles.

Stiles flushed with confusion and annoyance. Was he being threatened now? “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped back.

The blond’s curiosity faltered and he looked frightened again. “You just… you broke into my house and you didn’t even look scared or worried so I thought… you look like you know how to handle yourself?” It was a question rather than a statement.

Stiles was flabbergasted, though he tried his best to hide it under the sheer amount of contempt he was feeling for this guy and this situation. “ _Yeah_ , dude, whatever. Sure. I can handle myself. Are you going to test that or something? Beat me over the head again?” He really did have a splitting headache at this point.

The guy looked bewitched. He was sitting up on his knees and listening to Stiles’ words intently, staring at him like he’d hung the moon. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

“Have I ever - _what?_ Blondie, what the hell are you smoking? No, I’ve never killed anyone, _jesus_.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Isaac. My name is Isaac,” he responded.

“Yeah? Well my name’s Stiles. Glad we got the pleasantries out of the way, now we can sit down, have a drink, shoot the breeze...” Stiles felt like his eyes were going to roll right out of his head. Suddenly he yelled, “ _What do you **want**?_ ”

“Are you a spy or something?” Isaac asked. Apparently Stiles’ questions were being ignored. “Are you here to kidnap me? What do you want with me?”

“What do - _dude_ , what the fuck? I don’t want anything with you, I don’t even know you! I already _told_ you, I just needed to hide somewhere for a bit and your window was open so I came inside. I’m not a spy, I’m not some serial killer and I didn’t come here to kidnap you so that I could have my way with you. I just needed - a place - to hide. Get it?” Either this dude was seriously thick or he didn’t get out much.

“So you’re good at hiding?” Isaac asked him enthusiastically.

If he could, Stiles would’ve facepalmed right then. “Yeah, Isaac. I’m good at hiding.”

And then Isaac was standing up and tentatively stepping a bit closer to Stiles, though he still stood at least five feet away from Stiles, like he would somehow break the bonds and attack him. Isaac lifted the necklace over his head and regarded Stiles for a minute before breaking into a shy smile. “Okay, good. Because you’re taking me to see the lights.”

“I’m doing _what?_ ” Stiles asked incredulously.

“Taking me to the lights. The lights, y’know-” Isaac rushed over to a window - not the one that Stiles crawled in - and pulled back a tiny dark curtain to reveal a perfect view of the Hale tower in the distance. He gestured at the tower through the window. “-the lights. I’ll give you the necklace once you take me there and get me back home safely.”

“ _What?_ ” Stiles asked again. It was like he was slowly losing his mind and he’d landed in the worst possible nightmare he could imagine. “Are you insane, Blondie, or just creepy as fuck?” Obviously not the most helpful observation, but sometimes Stiles didn’t know when to shut up and leave things be.

“Do you agree to the terms?” Isaac asked, ignoring Stiles’ question _once again_.

Stiles sighed. “Why the hell do you want to go there?”

“I’ve always wanted to see them. Up close and know what they were and what they mean…” Isaac trailed off at that point. He looked worried, like he’d revealed too much to Stiles already by answering the question.

“So… why haven’t you just gone already?”

“It doesn’t work like that. Now promise that you’ll take me there and get me back.” This dude obviously had a one-track mind.

“Dude. What’s going to stop me from just _taking_ the necklace once you untie me?” It was logical enough. Stiles didn’t have to agree to anything if he could just wrestle Isaac to the ground and take it back for himself. 

Isaac eyed him warily and with slow - but deliberate - movements, Isaac clutched the wooden chair leg (Stiles now realized it was the leg missing from the chair he was tied to) in both hands and lifted it up in front of him with a menacing air. He said nothing, just stared wide-eyed at Stiles and said all that he needed to with his body language.

“You know what? _Fuck you_. I already have a splitting headache thanks to you and your chair leg, so don’t expect me to take you _anywhere_ when I feel like puking from pain.”

Isaac’s eyes softened and he looked guilty; his face washed over in remorse for Stiles’ plight and Stiles was just baffled by the range this dude was showing him in the span of ten minutes. Especially the way he kept responding to Stiles, even though Stiles was being a huge dick to him. Isaac walked in a large arc around the chair in the center of the room until he was standing behind Stiles. 

Stiles was nervous, he didn’t know _what_ Isaac might do, but he was pretty freaking sure the guy was unstable, so not the best combination when he was currently tied down, totally at the mercy of someone whose first instinct had been to knock Stiles out and tie him up and steal his stolen goods. The irony of the last wasn’t lost on him.

Isaac seemed to be hovering somewhere just behind Stiles. He couldn’t turn his head far enough to see what the blond teen was up to. Isaac finally put one hand on Stiles’ shoulder and tangled his fingers in Stiles’ hair with the other hand. Stiles leaned into the touch instinctively, stupidly letting his guard down when two years of experience told him that was the worst thing he could do. The moment you started to trust somebody was the moment they screwed you over. Stiles wasn't interested in that happening to him again.

Behind him, with fingers scratching lightly over his scalp, Isaac started to _sing_.


	2. when will his life begin?

Isaac was working on the right corner of the room when he was attacked.

He’d always thought it was too dark, and he decided to brighten it up by drawing a big yellow daisy on the concrete floor. Just as he was finishing the last petal and checking with Pasha to see if it was even, there was a sound like his whole world ripping open.

Someone—or some _thing_ —slipped inside the window sill.

Isaac’s heart was in his throat; he’d been warned about this, warned a thousand times, why the fuck didn’t he listen to his dad? ‘Close the window, son, close the window or someone’s gonna come in here and hurt you in ways that won’t heal over, give you a nice big scar as a reminder—or maybe even take you away from me for good, shove you out there where you’re feared and hated, you want that?’

“Hit him with something until we figure out what to do with him.” He stared at Pasha, dumbfounded, but her expression was set. “Nothing bad can happen if he’s not conscious.”

He nodded at her and shuffled in the darkness, quick and quiet as he could make himself. Just behind the dark and terrifying figure was the chair leg that’d finally fallen off Isaac’s desk chair last week. He was going to make a flag from paper and use it to be a pirate. Now it’d have a much more gruesome purpose.

Isaac never played baseball, but he knew how to swing.

 

Once the dark figure crumpled, Isaac took Pasha in his hands, made her look at him. “Oh my god. What if I just killed him? What if there’s a dead body in my room now?” He couldn’t help himself—he darted away from the unconscious villain and started to make a pillow fort, a place to hide, even though the sheets and cotton batting never kept his dad away for longer than a minute. Pasha dangled in his hand, forgotten, until she started to speak.

“Isaac. He’s not dead. He’s gonna wake up in two minutes, maybe less, unless you clocked him so good he has brain damage. Now pick him up, put him in that chair, and tie him down. Maybe check his pockets, see if you can’t figure out who he is before he has a chance to lie to you.”

His dad said everyone lied out there. Said it was a regular pastime, said that the American sport used to be baseball and now it was lying. Isaac swallowed hard and picked the dastardly crook off the floor and…

And were scary villainous ‘pieces of shit’ supposed to be this _beautiful_? He didn’t think so, hadn’t thought it worked like that, but then he thought of how obsessed with beauty Snow White’s stepmom was and decided not to let appearances deceive him. Especially ‘cute boy his age’ appearances. He settled Pasha on his shoulder and tore a few bits of fabric from his sheets to use on the mystery man’s wrists and legs.

Every time the guy groaned or twitched Isaac was across the room, in the pillow fort before he could really think about what he was doing, so it took a ton of time to actually finish, and he’d all but run out when he remembered to check the guy’s pockets.

The first one he checked just had a phone, and he figured it’d be impolite to look at that without asking. Pasha chided him, said that he was being silly, but he lost the concentration to pretend she was there when he checked the other pocket.

A necklace. A big one, too. And pretty. So pretty. He ran his fingers over the surface and ached in his chest just as the guy started to move again.

Isaac was so grateful for his reflexes, because shortly after, the man called out ‘hello’ over and over like this was some kind of horror movie. Like _he_ was the one who should be afraid.

Isaac wasn’t sure why that would be, why someone from _the outside_ would be scared of someone like him, and he watched with abject fascination until the guy started to look at him and his hiding place.

Apparently he hadn’t ducked out of the way in time, because the thief yelled at him, in his direction, and he clutched Pasha to the hollow in his neck, thought of other things until it stopped.

Finally he held Pasha in front of his face again, looked at her soft scruffed fur, her glassy blue eyes, the stitched smile on her mouth. She was his only friend, even though she was pretend and distinctly stuffed. He did his best to make her real, because if she wasn’t, he had no one.

“What do I do?”

He could see her quirking an eyebrow at him, her stitched smile widening to reveal a wolfy grin. “Well, what _do_ you want, Isaac?”

“I wanna know what this is.” He held the necklace up for her to see, and she made the appropriate ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s before giggling.

“Well you better ask him about it then.”

Isaac nodded, squeezed her body tight, and then stepped out to face his assailant.

 

It was hard, it was damn near impossible to actually talk to this person. The guy was mad and afraid and it was making Isaac a little sick inside, but then Pasha said something that slid home in his head with a near-audible ‘click’.

“I bet this guy’s been to see the lights.”

He turned and whispered down at her, aware that if this person heard him talking to her he would sound straight-up crazy. That was why he didn’t make Pasha’s voice out loud anymore; his dad threatened to take her away if he heard any more of Isaac’s ‘psycho girly talk’.

“Talk.”

She outlined the best and most basic plan he’d ever heard. His dad would be gone for at least a week, probably more—always happened during this time of year. The amount of food in the freezer in the corner said it all. Isaac had a hot plate and a microwave tucked into that same corner. He had to do his dishes in the tiny bathroom under the stairs.

But, instead of having to deal with that frustration and loneliness, he could go to the tower, see the lights (due in five days), and make it home before his father even knew he was gone. It was perfect, really.

A little too perfect.

“How do I know he’s not gonna try to kill me?!”

Pasha looked at him like he was stupid. “You honestly think your monster will let him kill you?”

Isaac felt lost and scared, the same way he did whenever the whole ‘claws and fangs’ thing came up. “N-no.”

“Okay. So just—just see if he’ll do it! We’ll go from there.”

Isaac swallowed, nodded at her, and then tucked her protectively in the crook of his arm before he turned around.

 

The conversation that followed was somewhat confusing, but only because the villa— _Stiles_ , if Isaac wanted to be stuck traveling with him he’d have to think of him by his real name—kept yelling questions at him, and in Isaac’s experience questions that were yelled were rhetorical, so he didn’t bother listening long enough to actually hear what the guy was saying. And then Stiles said he was _hurt_ and Isaac felt terrible, he couldn’t help it, he really didn’t like causing all the pain he did.

His father was sick because of him, because of the stress he caused on a daily basis, and now he’d bludgeoned someone near to death; he was just the worst kind of person.

“Isaaaac, don’t you do it!” Pasha’s voice was a warning, but he tucked her into his pocket and did his best to ignore her indignation. No, he really shouldn’t do this.

But if Stiles was supposed to take him to see the lights, then he had to be in top form, right? So he can protect Isaac?

And…and Isaac was the one who took him out of top form in the first place, he should probably fix that.

Normally when he did this for his father, he just gave him a shoulder massage, but Stiles’s hair looked so dark and so soft, and his head was the main thing that was hurting…

He just did it, settled one hand on Stiles’s shoulder and the other up in his hair, stomach swooping dizzily for reasons totally unknown to him. He looked down, concentrated. Started to sing quietly, light going from his eyes in a thin stream before widening and expanding, until his eyes were emanating a warm golden glow.

“ _Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine. Make the clock reverse. Bring back what once was mine. Heal what has been hurt. Change the Fate’s design. Save what has been lost. Bring back what once was mine. What once was mine._ ”

He shivered all over and shamefully let his fingers linger in Stiles’s hair for another few moments, not missing the loud, happy sigh that left Stiles’s mouth as his own eyes darkened back to blue.

“Better?” He finally moved back around to face Stiles head-on, closer than he’d been any time previous.

Stiles was rolling his head around and smiling contentedly, and Isaac took a moment to enjoy the fact that he’d done something good before he was fixed with a cold stare. “I don’t know how the fuck you did that, I don’t know what just happened, but yeah.” Stiles’s nostrils flared and Isaac wasn’t expecting what he said next, was so terrified by his expression he almost wasn’t paying attention. “If you double-cross me I will fuck your world up. Now untie me.”

Apparently something about his expression, or maybe the way he hugged Pasha tight to his chest, looked funny, because Stiles snorted a tiny bit of laughter before he rolled his eyes. “Dude. I’m tied to a chair. It’s not like I can punch you with my _face_.”

Isaac’s lips puckered and his bottom jaw jutted out as he slowly crept toward Stiles, who was now looking at him contemplatively. Isaac didn’t like that expression. “What?” He didn’t mean to sound snappish, but he was starting to get irritated.

“You are like seriously afraid of me. I mean, you should be, but still. It’s kind of funny.” This whole thing was stupid, Isaac thought it was stupid how the little smile on Stiles’s lips was making his stomach whoosh up and then back down.

He knelt down and started carefully undoing the knots he’d tied in a hurry and way too tightly. He finally just gave in and snapped them all one after the other, just by pulling for a second. He did it as fast as he could, then he was across the room, snatching up the chair leg he’d set down at some point and not necessarily wielding it, more clutching it to his chest right beside Pasha.

Stiles didn’t even stand up. “You should probably take some stuff, right? I mean, if you’re really doing this.” He stretched his legs out and laced his fingers together behind his head, looking for all the world like he felt completely relaxed, like he wasn't even slightly worried about Isaac in any way.

“What, you think I’m not brave enough?” He did his best to sound as outraged as possible. Just because that was what he was thinking didn’t mean Stiles got to say it.

Stiles rolled his eyes, but there was something in his expression that made Isaac sick to his stomach.

He packed without ever putting his back to Stiles once. Some extra clothes and the chair leg got tossed into a duffel. He slung it over his shoulder and then tucked Pasha into the crook of his arm.

“Good to go. You first.” He nodded at the window and Stiles looked surprised before boosting himself through.

Isaac stared at the square slot for a long time. Despite how much he’d wanted to, he’d never even put his hand on the grass.

“If you’re not coming just hand the necklace up.” Stiles’s hand appeared and Isaac took it instead of shoving the necklace into it like he desperately wanted to.

He was crying when Stiles helped him up, and shaking all over. Stiles didn’t comment, and he just wiped his eyes and followed Stiles’s back away.

 

It was hard to get used to not being surrounded by walls, not knowing all the places to hide. And he kept going back and forth between feeling overwhelmingly guilty and elated.

A plane passed overhead and he flattened himself to the ground, shaking like crazy, but Stiles didn’t even react but to raise an eyebrow.

It was weird not being made fun of.

They were just walking along the sidewalk in the vague direction of the lights, and in silence. Isaac always had the TV on or was singing or _something_. He really didn’t like quiet.

“Are you sure you even know where it is?”

Stiles scoffed. “A lot better than you do.”

Point taken. Isaac shut up.

At least until, only four streets over from his house, a low building with bright neon in both windows and some song he’d never heard before, something talking about carrying on and peace and somebody’s son, pouring out of the open door. He reached out and grabbed Stiles’s wrist without thinking, arm tightening on Pasha. “What _is_ that?”

He didn’t realize his stare toward the open door and the building (which he’d just realized was flanked by motorcycles) had gone hungry, or that he was now trying to hum along under his breath.


	3. i need something that i want

Stiles’ mouth curved into an amused smile. Isaac’s lack of knowledge was going to work in his favor. He twisted his wrist until he was grasping Isaac’s hand so he could pull the other teen along with him. He kept his face forward, toward the bar, ignoring the strange shock of electricity that bolted through him the moment his hand was in Isaac’s.

“ _That_... that is where we are going next. You’re hungry, right? Me too. Guy’s gotta eat, so we better get a good meal in before we start this innocuous journey,” Stiles said quickly, some of his words stumbling over the others as he realized he hadn’t taken his medicine today. He turned back suddenly to face Isaac. “Best we put that away and not mention it, yeah?” Stiles tucked the necklace underneath Isaac’s shirt, ignoring the instincts that told him to knock the dude out, take it, and run. Whatever Isaac had done to him earlier to take away the pain… well, something was definitely going on there and Stiles wasn’t going to be dumb enough to try and one-up him. Not until he knew what all Isaac was capable of.

Isaac’s curiosity made him pliable and he followed Stiles into the bar without much dissent, though Stiles felt some hesitation through the hold he had on Isaac’s hand. He let go of it once they entered and he felt relief flush him when he saw the large, burly bikers occupying the bar. The chances that they knew who he was were slim so they’d be able to eat in relative peace.

At least that’s what he thought. By the time he reached the bar with Isaac following closely behind him, he had more than one pair of eyes watching him. Most remained silent, but the man sitting next to him cleared his throat.

“ _Hey_... hey! You’re the guy! The guy from TV!” the leather-clad biker announced to the entire bar and everyone was looking from Stiles to the TV and back again, muttering their agreement.

Fuck. This was bad. Stiles glanced up at the television to see his morning police chase plastered all over the screen. They kept replaying a bit of Stiles turning his head to look behind him and zooming in on his face. His name was clearly displayed on the screen along with an unspecified amount of money being offered by the Hale family for information on the notorious thief known as Stilinski. Needless to say, his days of quiet thievery were over - there was no way he could hide this from his parents… there was also no way he could go home anytime soon. They’d be circling his house like vultures, so taking Isaac on this trip was at least going to keep him occupied. Unless someone turned him in. 

“Wha… that guy looks nothing like me! You guys are crazy!” Stiles tried lamely.

“No way! It’s you! Kid, I have to say… you’ve got some _cojones_ to go stealing from the Hales… didn’t think anyone was _that_ stupid!” a different man stated, clapping Stiles on the shoulder.

Stiles’ heart rate was speeding up. It was one-part anxiety from these men recognizing him and one-part lack of medication. “Guys really, that’s not me…”

“Who’s gonna make the call?” a lady asked from down the bar. “You know the Hales gotta be offering an unbelieveable amount of money to get their fancy shit back.”

“Now I want a piece of that pie! Ain’t just one person should be gettin’ all that dough-” a man said as he stood up, glaring down a few patrons nearby. Maybe they’d all start fighting over who gets the cash and no one would remember to actually call the police, giving he and Isaac time to get the fuck out.

He looked over at Isaac for the first time since everyone started in on him. The guy looked nearly unhinged, standing ramrod straight and glancing all around him as he inched closer and closer to Stiles. He was beginning to think that Isaac had been kidnapped by someone and was being held captive down in that basement. Why else would he be so jumpy and nervous? Perhaps he could turn Isaac in to his real parents and get off the hook for this score…

“Dude, we really gotta get outta here,” Stiles said from the side of his mouth while various people argued over who would get the lion’s share of the reward.

“What’s the plan?” Isaac squeaked quietly, moving even closer to Stiles’ side. He’d angled himself so he was partially hidden behind Stiles with his back to the nearest wall. Stiles recognized the move, because he’d had to use it before when things didn’t go his way and he needed to fight his way out of a situation. Never leave your back exposed when you don’t have anyone to watch it - one of the golden rules. So why did Isaac know that, much less practice it? 

“This isn’t something I expected to happen…” Stiles replied, loathe as he was to admit to his own incompetence. He had about fifty separate plans when it came to conning and thieving, always ready with a contingency when things didn’t go how they should, but he’d never expected to walk into a bar and be plastered all over the television. He’d underestimated just how rich and greedy the Hales were.

“You don’t have a plan?” Isaac asked incredulously, an odd shiver overtaking his whole body for a moment, then suddenly he was stepping out next to Stiles. He put his forefinger and thumb in his mouth and blew, a shrill whistle sounding throughout the main bar. The patrons quieted and turned to look at him, some with confusion and others with annoyance. “Stop. How can you fight over money when this is a kid’s life at stake here?”

“Not our problem, kid. We didn’t make him steal it,” someone piped up.

“No, but haven’t you ever had a dream? He’s only sixteen years old - if you turn him in, he’s going to be stuck in juvie and jail and never get to accomplish any of his dreams,” Isaac recited. Stiles thought he’d heard it somewhere before, like it was a speech from a movie.

There were a few snorts and chuckles and someone raised an eyebrow at him. “He should’ve thought about that before he tried to pilfer from the most influential people in town. Maybe if he was smarter, he wouldn’ta been caught.”

The biker had a point. Stiles should have been smarter. He knew better, but he’d gotten sloppy when he realized just how much money he could fence off of this stupidly-gaudy pendant. That didn’t get him any closer to freedom, unfortunately. Stiles was more surprised by Isaac’s sudden attempt to save his ass. And the fact that he was addressing an entire bar full of motorcyclists when a few moments ago he looked like he was going to pass out just from being there.

“Oh c’mon! Are you really gonna be a snitch? Are you seriously going to turn in a teenager and ruin his life all because he made a stupid mistake? What about the sheer brilliance of what he’s pulled off - shouldn’t that deserve some recognition? Everyone said it couldn’t be done, right? But he did it! This _kid_ right here did it!” Isaac lifted both arms, gesturing over at Stiles, who looked sideways at the blond with a mouth that was slightly ajar. He had no clue where Isaac was going with this or why he thought it would work to recite quotes from cop dramas.

Surprisingly, there were a few nods rippling around the bar. They weren’t actually buying this crap, were they?

“So maybe he messed up; but we should at least acknowledge the fact that he was able to get in and out with something and not get caught on the premises! That’s an achievement right there! And what happens when one of you messes up? You’re going to be hoping and praying that someone is nice enough not to turn you in right on the spot - that someone gives you a fighting chance to get away with your dignity intact. Don’t you think he at least deserves that much?” Stiles could see Isaac’s hand shaking at his side, but he looked utterly unphased otherwise.

Somehow Isaac’s stupidly simple idea was working. Men were concurring around the room and finally the bartender came out from behind the bar and slapped Stiles on the shoulder. “Alright, kid, count yourself lucky. If you leave now, you might get a headstart before they call the cops on you. It’s the best I can offer you. Just be glad your friend there has a way with words.”

Stiles nodded dumbly. “Uh right. Yeah. Thanks guys,” he glanced appreciatively around the room before he grabbed Isaac by the elbow and tugged him to the door. With every step he could feel Isaac tremble harder under his fingers and he was afraid he couldn’t get the blond out fast enough before he totally broke down. Weirdly enough, he felt more concerned about Isaac losing his shit than he did about the bikers calling the cops.

He got Isaac out the door and pulled him toward the back of the bar. As they turned the corner, Isaac tripped over his own feet and just sort of sat down on the ground, huddled in on himself and shaking uncontrollably. 

Stiles shifted around uncomfortably. “Are you - you gonna be alright?” Isaac didn’t respond and after a minute or two Stiles spoke up again. “Sorry I took you in there, I didn’t know it’d be that hard for you. T-thanks for doing that; it was pretty cool of you,” Stiles spoke softly, feeling like he should be soothing Isaac in some way. He hardly knew anything about Isaac’s situation, but he felt strangely protective of him. Maybe it was just being charged with his care or maybe he saw something of himself in Isaac. Or maybe Isaac just looked so sad and vulnerable that he couldn’t bring himself not to care. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t take advantage of the situation though. He wasn’t born yesterday.

“Look. I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m probably not the best person to be associating with when a city-wide manhunt is being conducted for my head. And you… well you don’t seem to be well-versed in the art of social interaction or like... _anything_. Don’t you think you should just call it a day and go back home? You tried, right? No one can fault you for not being able to handle this. Being on the run is not an easy life for _anyone_ \- how do you think you’re going to handle it?” He tried to keep his voice level and not sound accusatory or hopeful in any way. He wasn’t sure how successful he was seeing as he was still super jittery yet uncharacteristically tired.

As he spoke, though, Isaac seemed to become less and less distressed and by the time the sirens were sounding a few blocks away, Isaac was back on his feet and tugging Stiles into the woods behind the bar. “We’re going, Stiles. Stop trying to back out and get moving before we get arrested.”

“ _We_?”


	4. no frying pan, has to work what he's got

Isaac pulled a bit harder on Stiles’s hand, concentrating on the smell of the woods in front of him. It was triggering something in his brain he couldn’t quite explain, a feeling of safety, of homecoming. But his home was forever away now. And he couldn’t just go back.

It took him a moment to even register that Stiles’d spoken, and he looked back once they were surrounded by trees, eying the other boy curiously even as he kept moving forward. “I just helped you. I’m _wearing_ the thing you stole. Do you think those bikers are gonna leave me out of it? I’m an accomplice.” After the words left his mouth he was suddenly dizzy, and he stopped in his tracks and swayed against a tree, breathing going haywire as his hand tightened on Stiles’s.

“Isaac? What--”

Isaac shook his head abruptly from side to side. _No. Stop talking._ His thoughts were trying to strangle him. Endless rhetorical questions designed to make him feel stupid wouldn’t help him right now. He tugged Pasha out of his back pocket, where he tucked her to keep her safe from all those scary people, and hugged her tight, burying his face in her fur and whining quietly, the sound more monster than human.

His dad stopped complaining about the lack of satellite TV in his fishing cabin about two years ago. And if people started mentioning seeing him around, and it got reported on the news, and his dad saw...

Isaac released Stiles’s hand completely and stumbled farther into the woods, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt and fear. “My dad’s gonna kill me. He is going to actually fucking kill me. How did I think--did I really think I was going to get away with this? I’m gonna die. I am going to actually die.”

Pasha piped up from her place against his chest, so clear that for a moment he imagined not just her speaking but her actual physical warmth. “Isaac. You’re not going to die. He needs you, remember? What do I tell you when he goes overboard?”

Isaac swallowed thickly, fat tears finally leaking from the corners of his eyes. He lost Stiles completely, forgot he was there at all. “He needs you. He needs you and he has to stop sometime. It’ll just heal anyway. Right?”

“Right.” There it was, all crystal-clear Pasha, and that was when he realized her actual voice was coming out of his actual mouth. He slapped his hand over his mouth so hard he felt his lip split open and twisted around way faster than was ‘natural’, way faster than he was supposed to, and there was blood trickling down his chin as he took in Stiles’s face.

Stiles was pale, with color high and bright in his cheeks. Isaac hated the way it made his chest ache. “Dude. The _fuck_.” Stiles took four long strides and wrapped his hand around Isaac’s wrist and Isaac flinched back so violently he almost fell over, even though the long fingers felt more like a breath of hot air than a twisting rope. Stiles grabbed at his waist to keep him from falling, and they wound up in a weird kind of embrace, with those amazingly dark brown eyes staring so deep into his own Isaac felt like it didn’t matter how much he hunched his shoulders--there was nowhere to hide.

Stiles sighed and Isaac shivered. The quiet moment lasted all of two seconds before Stiles stepped back a bit and moved his arm, a century suddenly settled on his shoulders. He trailed a gentle thumb over Isaac’s bottom lip, and Isaac felt more tears spill. What was happening?

“You hurting yourself is _not_ a helpful thing, okay? We’re _running from the cops_ , dude, you need to be in top form, you need to...to...”

Isaac closed his eyes and sucked his lip into his mouth, the raw copper taste of blood flooding his tastebuds, and a little tiny touch of something else that threatened to make his knees weak. He ran his tongue over the perfect skin and waited for the inevitable.

He wasn’t quite sure what the inevitable _was_. Maybe a slap to see if the bruise would heal.

 _Please don’t let Stiles take out a knife_. That was one of the worst nights of his life, he’d have to run if that started happening again. He knew exactly how long it’d take him to heal from a stab wound as deep as his index finger.

Too fucking long.

“Isaac.” Stiles’s voice was surprisingly soft, and a gentle tug on the skin of his chin made his bottom lip slip back out of his mouth. “What in the hell...” Isaac was nearly overwhelmed by how exhausted he sounded. “I have put up with so much weird shit without batting a goddamn eyelash. I have fucking dealt with the fact that you seem to’ve never been out of your basement in complete silence. I have dealt with the fact that you carry around a named stuffed dog who you apparently make voices for. I even dealt with you making an injury _you_ caused go away and the fact that you don’t know who Kansas is. But dude. Your fucking cut just healed itself.”

Stiles took three steps back and it took all of Isaac’s self restraint not to close the distance between them and hug him so tight, so _so_ tight, god he needed something steady right now, something breathing, something that made its own voice.

Stiles’s eyes seemed to be vibrating in their sockets, and he took a deep, slow breath before continuing. “Your face. Just fucking healed. What the shit _are_ you?”

Isaac swallowed hard and started to back away, abruptly realizing that he had no idea which direction his house was in from here. “I--I’m nothing. I’m nothing. Don’t--I’m nothing.” _Monster._ When did this adventure suddenly turn into a horror movie?

The look on Stiles’s face was impossible to place, and it made Isaac’s stomach turn over like a bad starter. In an instant he was gagging into the underbrush, body shaking as tears ran from his eyes. It was just the bile in the back of his throat, searing his delicate esophageal lining and creating an automatic reaction.

Had to be.

Once he was crouched, it seemed like there was no way he could get back up. He stayed there on his hands and knees, panting into the underbrush, for what felt like three hours.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. For once, instead of flinching, he leaned into it.

 

Isaac concentrated on that hand, on the warmth emanating from it, for probably three minutes before it started moving. Stiles’s fingers drummed on his shoulder, tapping out a quick beat that made no sense whatsoever. He seemed to realize what he was doing and switched to abrupt stroking motions, but those were overly hurried and felt more like Stiles was tugging him. Isaac put his hand over Stiles’s, just to get him to stay still, and he finally looked over his shoulder at Stiles.

The other boy was shuffling from foot to foot like he had to go to the bathroom, darkness under his eyes and way far back in them. Isaac could smell something kind of off, but he couldn’t place it, he had no idea what it meant. He wasn’t even paying attention to Stiles’s facial expression, just noting how pale he was. “Are you sick?”

“Am I...” Stiles looked completely stunned, more looking at Isaac’s hand than his face when he spoke. A small false laugh sounded out of his throat, and his eyes twitched around in their sockets before he finished the thought. “Sick? Sort of. I guess you could call it that. ADHD. Things get kind of shitty when I don’t take my meds.”

Isaac vaguely knew of this acronym, probably from something his dad’d let him watch on DVD. He wondered if it was anything like the thing that was wrong with his dad. “Do you have them with you? Do you need some? Where do we go to get you some?” He _has_ seen drug stores and stuff in shows and movies but he didn’t know they were real places. Keeping all that stuff in one place seemed kind of dangerous.

To his utter bafflement, Stiles laughed. “I _had_ a bottle of Adderall, but I kinda lost it at some point during that ridiculous police chase that lasted for over sixty miles. And it’s not like I can stop by my house and get some more.”

“Are we stealing them, then?” Isaac’s eyes were wide and he squeezed Pasha tight in his free hand to keep her quiet. He knew he shouldn’t steal. But he would. And was more than willing to.

What was happening?

Stiles’s eyes grew another size, which didn’t seem like it should be possible. “Dude. You’re not stealing anything. You’ll hide by a dumpster outside a CVS or something. I mean, I’m already fucked. Things can’t get that much worse, right?”

Isaac’s hand tightened on Stiles’s, and he was standing up and close way too fast. “That’s dangerous though. There has to be another way, right?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “What, you want me to buy a baggie off a drug dealer loitering around this park? ‘Cause that’s a _whole_ lot safer.”

“This is a park? Really? I thought it was like...a forest...” He leaned back a little to look at Stiles’s face with big eyes, ducking his head so that Stiles actually seemed a bit shorter.

Stiles’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck, and a pretty pink blush oozed up in his cheeks, all blotchy and bright. Isaac wanted to run his fingers over it, see if Stiles’s cheeks were as soft as they looked, or maybe he had secret scratchy beard hair--

Wait, what?

Pasha started to say something but he shoved her in his back pocket head towards the ground. The motion seemed to startle Stiles and he took a few steps back, finally tugging his fingers from Isaac’s grasp.

The loss sucked.

“Dude. Yeah. It’s a park.” Stiles looked up and away, away from the direction they walked in...Isaac thought. Wait. Crap. Was he really lost that immediately?

“Um, are there really...criminals...out here?” 

Stiles grinned wickedly and started walking in that nowhere-direction Isaac couldn’t place that was likely toward the tower. There were just so many fucking trees... “Yeah. Lots, I’m sure.”

“Really though?” Isaac’s eyes got big again and he trailed after Stiles, trying to walk close and behind him without seeming too obvious.

“Oh yeah.” Stiles sounded so nonchalant. Isaac walked a little closer and started trying to look everywhere around them at once, but then Stiles stopped suddenly and even with how quick he usually was Isaac ran right into him.

To Isaac’s total surprise instead of looking mad, Stiles just leaned into him with a grin, like he _made_ them collide. “You’re looking at one.”

 

A half hour and a lot of seriously uncomfortable blushing and walking with his hand on Stiles’s shoulder so Stiles couldn’t lean against him like that again (he didn’t want to start shaking like a weirdo and look like a complete ‘fraidy cat) later, they ran across their first street light. There was a wide cobblestone pathway and they started to walk along it.

After about six feet Stiles took his hand, making Isaac jump about half a foot in the air and absolutely _stare_.

Stiles was blushing so hard it looked like it hurt. “Uh. So. People come here to like. Be weird at night. Like fuck and stuff. So I figure it’s kind of safer for us if we look like a couple and not like fugitives, yeah?”

Isaac nodded. He had no idea what to say or even think.

They walked for about ten minutes before they hit another street light, this one with a bench under it. The bulb was amber, but the sudden light made it clear how pale Stiles was. His blush had turned not-sweet, and he was giving off waves of a smell Isaac couldn’t quite place. It made him think of people in movies squirming around the waiting room of a dentist’s office, though. “I gotta sit down for a second.”

Isaac couldn’t help but think it looked like Stiles needed to sit down for a lot of seconds. Maybe like enough seconds to make up six years. “You uh. You look worse. Wait here.” Something settled hard in Isaac’s chest and he moved away from Stiles, unsure of where he was going or what he was doing exactly.

It was kind of hard to let go of his hand, though, especially when Stiles’s fingers were squeezing at his own and he seemed too freaked out to even say anything.

 

Five minutes farther up the path there was a man in a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, looking around shiftily. Isaac waved at him cheerfully, and when the guy recoiled a little, stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to look tough. He walked up and stood about a foot and a half away, but the scroungy man looked uncomfortable so Isaac backed away a few steps.

That didn’t seem to help, so Isaac decided to just get on with it. “Do you have Adderall?” He wasn’t surprised to hear his voice more curious than anything else.

The guy’s shoulders slumped and he made a disgusted face. “Go home, kid. Someone like you don’t belong out here.”

Isaac was surprised to find a sudden black rage descending upon him. All he wanted was his protector’s (his _friend_ ’s, he tried to correct, but Pasha simply wouldn’t let him) medicine. And here this--this _fucker_ was trying to keep him from it. His eyes went first, as always.

“I would rethink my answer, if I were you.”

Isaac watched the man’s entire face change, and suddenly he looked more around Isaac’s age, more like a boy. “Look, dude, I only have a bottle of five emgee, there are like 30 pills in there, you can take it, just take it, don’t kill me, okay?” Yeah, definitely Isaac’s age. He still had pimples dotting his cheeks.

Something clicked in Isaac’s head, and he realized he could actually do something about this horrible shit. In moments he had fangs, and he widened his stance and panted, letting the monster come forth enough to terrify. “Give it. And never sell drugs again. I’ll be watching.” He hoped the guy couldn’t figure out he wouldn’t be.

 

Isaac returned to the bench like nothing had even happened and put the pills in Stiles’s hand before taking Stiles’s other hand in his own and sitting down. “That’s them, yeah? You can just take a bunch at once, right? To make your dosage or something? Did I get the right one? And--and what’s an emgee?”


	5. something that I tell myself I need

Stiles blinked. 

It took him a couple of minutes to totally comprehend everything - the bottle of pills (they were real and Isaac had _actually_ gone out and found some, obviously from a drug dealer), the hand resting warmly in his own (it was a little clammy and dirty, but overall it felt nice), and the words Isaac was speaking (how was he supposed to think clearly about dosages and pill counts when all he could seem to see was the world swimming in front of him as he tried not to pass out and that lying on Isaac’s shoulder seemed like the best idea in the world right now).

Stiles’ hands were shaking so badly when he tried to open the bottle that Isaac had to take it and do it for him. After he handed it back, Stiles shook out four and swallowed them dry. He tried to focus on something other than the enclosing darkness around the edges of his vision, so he started to answer Isaac’s questions, holding his hand tightly and leaning into his shoulder anyway.

“Um… milligrams. ‘Mg’ stands for milligrams - it’s the dosage that is used for most medication. Usually you have to increase your dosage once your body gets used to what you’re taking. I started out on 10 milligrams, but I’m at 20 now.” Stiles nodded against Isaac’s shoulder, hardly aware that he’d curled in on Isaac, though he could feel the effects Isaac’s warmth had on his side. “You got it right. Thanks, Isaac. Normally I’d ask how, but I don’t really care right now. I’m just really… really…” Stiles stifled a yawn, “...tired. Adderall withdrawl makes you really sluggish and tired. I really need to take a…”

 

Stiles woke up with a start some time later, no recollection of his whereabouts. He started to panic because falling asleep was never safe, not when he was being chased by the entire city’s police force, not to mention whoever the Hales hired to track him down. 

“Whoa, hey,” he heard and turned his head up to find Isaac looming above him, eyes filled with concern but a bit bleary. Stiles had forgotten all about Isaac when he’d first woken up, but it was flooding back into his brain now. Most importantly of which was that he was clutching Isaac’s thigh and using it as a pillow… and he totally had morning wood. Fuck.

“I - I-” he stuttered and sat up quickly, his head swimming a little bit. “What happened? What are we - the last thing I remember, we were in the park…”

Isaac looked sheepish and rubbed the back of his neck. “I moved you once you fell asleep on the bench; it just didn’t seem safe to be out in the open.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. Yeah right, good call. Sorry I uh… sorry I passed out on you.” He was trying to stealthily cover his lap while he spoke, but it seemed like Isaac kept glancing there anyway. Double fuck. “So uh… did you get any sleep then?”

Isaac’s cheeks colored red and he looked to the side while he spoke. “I um… I kept watch for a while, but I think I fell asleep at some point. I’m sorry, Stiles.”

Stiles shook his head. “Do you need to get some more before we go? I can keep watch now.”

“No, no, I’m fine, I swear,” Isaac insistently protested just as he let out a loud yawn. Stiles started to chuckle and Isaac hung his head. “Maybe a little bit…”

Grinning, Stiles sat up against the tree next to Isaac and patted his thighs, momentarily forgetting about his earlier problem. He shifted around a little and smiled weakly, a blush of his own working over his neck. “You can use me as a pillow now since I apparently took over your lap last night.” 

Isaac looked skeptically at him. “You were sick, that’s different.” Stiles just waved him down again and Isaac slowly lay down on his side on the ground and rested his head on Stiles’ lower thigh, facing toward Stiles and probably getting the largest eyeful of Stiles’ erection ever. How embarrassing. 

The blond tugged his stuffed dog from his pocket and snuggled it to his chest, looking sheepishly up at Stiles before closing his eyes while Stiles looked at his hands, trying to figure out where to put them. He very gently lowered one to Isaac’s head and started to card slow fingers through his hair, planning to pass it off as a calming gesture when he’d really just been dying to feel it. Isaac fell asleep in minutes.

 

“Isaac, we gotta go,” Stiles shook the other teen and started pulling him up to a standing position. “They’re gonna find us any minute.”

“Wha-” Isaac rubbed his eyes and stumbled along next to Stiles. “How do you know?”

“Hardened criminal, remember?” he pointed at himself. “I’ve been hunted a lot in my day; I know what signs to look for. C’mon, we need to get to a safe house.”

“You have a safe house? Why didn’t you just go there to begin with?” 

Stiles shook his head and started walking faster the more aware Isaac became, though he was still holding onto his arm just in case. “If I went straight there they would’ve followed me and busted the place. Always gotta lead them astray before you can go where you’re really headed.” Stiles stopped suddenly and turned Isaac by his arm to look at him. “Dude, if we would’ve stayed in the park last night, they probably would’ve already found us. I’d already be in a holding cell. You kept me from going to jail _and_ going through withdrawl so… _thank you_.”

“You’re welcome,” Isaac nodded looking stunned, though a small smile tugged at his lips.

“Let’s go.”

 

“So what exactly is your safehouse?” Isaac asked when they had been walking for about forty minutes.

“I’ve got a few. Some are just abandoned places that I’ve camouflaged so no one can find them. Some are in the basement of someone’s house, some are with people I know won’t rat me out… wherever is closest. That’s how you get away without getting caught.”

“How many do you _have_?” Isaac looked awed.

Stiles shrugged, making an ‘mmm’ sound while he considered it. “About nine throughout the city and two more outside whenever things are _really_ bad.”

“Like now?”

“Yeah, but we don’t have the luxury of making it outside of town in these conditions. It’s too risky with so many people knowing who to look for. I mean, I’ve been on the run before, but I’ve never had a city-wide manhunt mandated for me. Fucking _Hales_.” Stiles pushed branches out of the way as they went. They were almost out of the woods, though he wasn’t looking forward to it. It meant no cover.

“So why’d you do it when you knew how… how influential they are?”

Stiles shouldn’t be answering questions like this, especially not without any hesitation whatsoever. But Isaac had saved his life _twice_ in the same night and not trusting him at this point was just going to get them both caught or killed. This wasn’t even Isaac’s flight either. “Because the score was too good and I need the money.”

Stiles knew what he wanted to ask next. Isaac kept side-eying him but wouldn’t actually say it. “You wanna know why I turned to a life of crime? What I need so much money for?” Stiles implored. Isaac nodded at him simply, blushing and looking down at his feet. “My mom’s dying. She’s got cancer and my parents can’t afford to send her to the Hale Research Center for treatment, so…” Stiles shrugged and watched where he was going rather than look at Isaac.

They were silent for a while until Isaac said quietly, “I’m sorry, Stiles,” just as they neared the edge of the woods. 

Stiles just nodded and put his finger to his lips, looking from one side to the other down the street. He leaned in near Isaac and started whispering near his ear so the blond could hear him. “The closest place is down the street a couple of blocks. We need to go at a steady pace - don’t run, don’t look conspicuous, keep your head down and uh... we should hold hands again like we did earlier, talk like we’re just a couple on a walk. Can you handle that?”

Isaac took a breath like he might be steadying himself before he nodded and took Stiles’ hand.

They walked down the street and made idle small talk rather than going for the heavier ‘getting to know you’ stuff. Stiles prattled on about Star Wars and Harry Potter and why it was okay to cry at Disney movies so long as you watched a shoot ‘em up movie right after. Isaac put in a comment here and there, but for the most part he just listened to Stiles talk and let Stiles lead him down the city blocks until they reached a shabby looking house covered in peeling blue and white paint and overgrown with ivy. Stiles knocked on the door and when someone on the other side asked who it was, he answered with ‘Apollo’ and the door opened instantaneously.

“ _Stiles_ , holy shit,” Danny remarked and shuffled them inside to close the door before taking Stiles in a quick hug. “You’re all over the news, man, everyone knows your face… you’re a fucking rockstar, dude.” He clapped Stiles on the back, but Stiles just gave him a half-smile.

“I assure you it wasn’t my intention to become famous, man. Anyway we uh, we need a place to lay low for a bit; you mind if we take the basement?” Stiles looked back at Isaac and then to Danny. 

“Of course not, man. I’m Danny,” he extended his hand out to Isaac, who looked at it hesitantly with a glance toward Stiles who nodded slightly. Isaac shook Danny’s hand. “Isaac. So you have that room? We’re kinda tired from running.”

 

“How do you know we can trust him?” Isaac asked once they were tucked away in the basement which only had one queen bed and a grubby looking sofa, but at least there was a bathroom.

Stiles shucked off his shoes and tugged the shirt over his head, tossing a bag of crackers over to Isaac before settling back on the sofa with his own in hand, tucking his other arm behind his neck to make himself comfortable. “Because I’ve known Danny for years and we look out for each other whenever one of us needs it. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think it was safe… just don’t worry about it.” Stiles looked over at Isaac who was staring directly at him with slightly wide eyes. Stiles raised his eyebrows but decided to ignore it. After this morning he didn’t need to be putting any thoughts in his head.

Isaac replied by staying silent and eating a couple of crackers. They munched on them in companionable silence for a while until Isaac blurted out, “So what was going on with you this morning when you woke up? With your pants, I mean.”

Stiles nearly choked on the cracker crumbs he was chewing and sat up abruptly, coughing and spewing crumbs from his mouth as he did. “ _What?_ ” he barely managed to gasp through his coughing fit. Isaac looked worried, but he didn’t move and eventually (after some water) Stiles recovered enough to ask, “Please tell me you know what-”

Isaac smirked at him. “I know what an erection is, Stiles, I was just messing with you.”

“Oh, um… right. Okay. Well, uh… there’s a shower in there; you might wanna grab one now because I don’t know when we’ll see one again after this.” Stiles averted his eyes and felt extremely naked all of a sudden.

He passed the time by reading a book while Isaac took the first shower, not looking away from the pages until the door opened and Isaac stepped into the room with just a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping down his abs. Stiles’ grip tightened on his book while he glanced upward over it, through his eyelashes, letting his eyes take in Isaac’s trim but bulky build, the curve of his shoulders and hips, the way his hair plastered on his head in wet ringlets above his bright blue eyes. 

Isaac glanced over at him and Stiles coughed, forcing his gaze down. “Sorry, I forgot to grab my clean clothes. Do you - do you have any changes of clothing to wear?”

Stiles looked up and locked his eyeline with Isaac’s to keep it from wandering again. “Yeah, I have some stuff stashed here. Thanks for asking though.”

“Yeah. Of course. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Stiles took more time than was strictly necessary in the shower, clenching his eyes shut and bracing a hand on the wall while he tugged rigorously at himself, blue eyes and blond hair swimming in and out of his hazy daydreaming. By the time he got out of the shower his skin was blotchy from the heat of the water. He dressed into a pair of boxers and a t-shirt in the bathroom and found Isaac lying on the sofa when he opened the door. “Hey man, no way. I’m not gonna make you sleep on the couch. I’ll sleep there if you want the bed to yourself.”

Isaac’s head shook rigorously. “No! I don’t need the bed to myself; we can share it. I mean, if that’s alright with you... it’s fine with me.”

Stiles shrugged and plopped down on the bed easily, whereas Isaac was more tentative when he sat down next to Stiles. “Doesn’t bother me any, just don’t hog the covers or kick me in the shin or something.” Stiles lay on his back and looked up at the ceiling while Isaac curled onto his side, facing toward Stiles. 

“Is the pendant really going to be enough for you to put your mom in treatment?” Isaac whispered between them.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, it should be.”

“Then I’ll do everything I can to make sure you get her there, Stiles. I promise.”

Stiles turned his head and could only just make out Isaac’s bright eyes in the near darkness, though it wasn’t enough to read the look on his face. “Thank you, Isaac.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is (obviously) a Tangled AU, but set in a modern universe. We aren't following the movie to a "T", but you'll see the similarities as you read. It's being co-written by [Emmie](http://burntotears.tumblr.com/) and [Cheyenne](http://unfortunateirises.tumblr.com). Feel free to follow us on tumblr!
> 
> The [beautiful and lovely Sue](http://sasquatchandjacket.tumblr.com/post/62949871512/) drew Isaac for us! Please go check out [her art](http://sasquatchandjacket.tumblr.com/tagged/my-art), she's absolutely amazing!


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